


The Holidays

by Egon



Series: The Lies That Destroy Us [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Fluff and Angst, Fontcest, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Illness, Implied vomiting, Incest, M/M, Mild Language, Minor Original Character(s), Monster Biology, Mpreg, No Communication, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Original Character(s), Postpartum Depression, Referenced Male Pregnancy, Sibling Incest, Tragic Romance, Unhealthy Relationships, Unplanned Pregnancy, monster pregnancy, skelepreg, soul spark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:41:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24482944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Egon/pseuds/Egon
Summary: #4: You must be so proud.
Relationships: Papyrus/Sans (Undertale)
Series: The Lies That Destroy Us [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/415043
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	The Holidays

**Author's Note:**

> Finished after rising from the dead while good monsters are in quarantine.

Zapfino Skeleton, born October 21, 201X, estimate 4.30 am.

Birth weight: 3 pounds, 6 ounces/1.5 kg.

Birth length: 16 inches/40.5 cm.

Attending Physician: N/A.

Delivered by: ‘Mr. Stork’; home birth.

Parent A: Sans Skeleton.

Parent B: ____________

Notarized: Dr. Caduo.

Signed, stamped, and notarized, the newborn was made an official citizen of the underground. Sans didn’t realise he was holding his breath through all of this until it was over. One copy kept on hand at their local clinic, where he spent the entire panicky time wanting nothing more than for the doctor to take her claws off the baby and give them back. One copy for central records, information readily available in case they should ever have to deal with another widespread disease again. Papyrus pestered a nurse continuously out in the waiting room, questions that probably wouldn’t apply to their very rare species anyway, but it kept him distracted. His job was lying through his teeth and making sure that no one looked twice at the records.

“Home birth is very dangerous.” The doctor warned him coolly. “ _I have to wonder what you were thinking!_ ” Her other, equally credentialed head piped up.

“’s probably it,” Sans agreed. “just wasn’t thinking. you know how that happens.”

“Funny.” One pink tongue stuck out from her other head. “I’m not sure how you think you’re getting away with the cute stork line—“

“well, you wrote it down, so it looks like i’m getting—“

“ _I’m just doing this for your brother_ ,” she huffed.

His smile froze. “what’s that s’posed to mean now?” He stopped rocking the child in his arms. Seemed Zapfino was just too lazy to care whether or not they were being given attention.

“It doesn’t mean anything at all. If you want to tell him the stork brought you a baby, that’s between you two. It’s not my business.” Her immaculate claws tapped the clipboard rhythmically. “For all the records matter, it was a home birth.” She sniffed. “ _You’re welcome_.”

“thanks dr. c.” He resumed rubbing an easy pattern down the infant’s back.

She hesitated for a moment. “How are you doing for basic… they have food, clothing…?”

“we’re doing okay.” Sans followed out the much taller monster into the hallway and stood with Papyrus as the doctor took the nurse aside, and the two disappeared deeper into the facility.

“Was Zapfino quiet and good for the doctor?” Papyrus fidgeted. “Are they healthy?”

Sans nodded back, jostling the baby. “real good. perfect. perfectly healthy. passed out on the doc, actually. i don’t think she quite knew what to do—“

The nurse was waving Papyrus over into one of the rooms, and his heart lurched before he could help himself. Were they going to say something? Was there something wrong after all? Were they going to get some kind of separate account of what went down and play detective? Shit, this wasn’t fair.

“Sans!!!” Papyrus was carrying something. “They gave us free stuff! Take a look! There’s some blankets and baby food—“ He wandered over uneasily and looked through the cardboard bassinet. A few simple baby jumpers with the unusual amount of buttons needed to customize it to different monster anatomy (a tail hole, but then again, it was rabbits and dogs out here), some extremely small hats, socks, and mittens, a fair amount of diapers, another baby bottle, a bib, a pacifier, and a soft lavender stuffed animal, vaguely alpaca shaped, eyes closed in serene sleep.

“We removed some of the items that might not apply, since Zapfino doesn’t have fur or skin, but there are some vitamins to bring your magic count back up after birthing your newborn, and a coupon book for a few of the stores nearby.” Both of the heads were smiling now. “Remember to come back in a month from now for their first wellchild check-up, and if you’re experiencing any of the standard issues, feel free to walk in anytime sooner.”

“standard issues?”

“If your magic is reluctant to reconstitute to normal levels or if it’s dripping a week or two out from delivery, if you’re dealing with postpartum depression…” She waved her hand.

Papyrus smirked back at him. “The nurse already told me everything about it, Sans.”

“well that’s good, i’ll let you just—“ he yawned. “take care of remembering all of that.”

“I don’t need to remember it! She gave me pamphlets! Did you know, Sans, that—“

On cue, the baby stirred and began making noises. “we should really start heading back home. sounds like zappy’s gettin’ hungry.” His eyes were burning, and he didn’t want to start the waterworks in front of someone he’d have to see again in a little less than a month. Whether or not this care was standard or free for everyone, it still felt like a refuge amidst the terrors and uncertainties.

He reached into the bassinet and drew out a set of the mittens and socks. The baby struggled weakly and ineffectively against this new assault, but he got them covered in short order. They glowered back at him under one of the too-large caps, soft infant face rendering the annoyance in adorable hues. “don’t make that face at me, little guy. you’ll thank me when you’re healthy and everyone else has colds.”

“They will not thank you,” Papyrus corrected. “Because they are a baby and cannot speak. But I can thank the doctor.”

“pap—“

No warning was fast enough to prevent his brother from picking up the doctor and drawing her into a tight hug. He watched her eyes bug out. Great, now he was snickering and crying. When Papyrus put her down, it was with a heavy thump and a stumble back, but he recovered admirably. “Homeward bound!”

Sans kept glancing back at the dumbstruck doctor every few seconds until he couldn’t see her anymore. “you know you’re not usually allowed to….” He chuckled again. “that was great, papy. you shoulda seen her face.”

“Which one?”

Another round of laughter. He reached out to pat his brother’s thigh, then was reminded, awkwardly and violently of exactly what had gotten them in this position. The hand was withdrawn, returned to cradling the baby. He made a point of looking away from Papyrus for the rest of the trip home, aware, suddenly, of how many curious parties were making a note of the new addition to their family.

~

Of course, he was a little concerned about the frightening things the nurse had warned him about. Monsters who bled their magic out after they gave birth? Monsters who couldn’t build their magic back up to healthy levels? Zapfino’s birth was a curious circumstance, and he knew he gave more than was usual, or healthy. Even three days out from the voiding, he was still clumsy and uncoordinated. His ears rang, and his vision blurred, and he had to sit down far too much for his liking. The idea was that there would be no attention given to him whatsoever, but Undyne noticed it immediately.

“I have not been sleeping well since the baby—“ That was as much as he could manage before she was manhandling him around.

“There’s a baby???”

“Please put the skeleton down.” He grimaced. There really was no point in hiding Zapfino’s existence, but he immediately regretted bringing it up. “The stork brought Sans a baby. It is exactly like Sans. It sleeps all day, and cries all night. You are making me very dizzy.”

“What’s its name? What do they look like? C’mon, man, you can’t just say something like that and leave me hanging!”

“It is not for me to say.” Papyrus struggled valiantly. It did nothing. “Ask Sa—aahh!!! Zapfino! The baby is named Zapfino!”

This seemed to satisfy her, or at least denote his willingness to comply with her demands. She set him down, and he immediately had to steady himself against a chair. Restoring dignity against a crumpled apron could wait. Her eyes were ablaze. “Weird name. I always thought Sans would go for something more like a Jokerman or a Curlz—“

“God no.”

“Or, you know, like—“ She struggled. “The really popular ones. Helvetica! Arial! Times New Roman! Hell, Courier looks cool.”

“Ehhhh.”

“Not a fan?”

He shrugged a response. The dizzy spell wasn’t letting up, and he wondered how to get himself into the chair in a really cool way that wouldn’t rouse suspicions further. “Gwehhgh!!!”

“Geez— Hey, you alright?”

Nailed it.

“As it is not my baby,” he continued in his new origami skeleton position. “I should not be the one giving all of Sans’s secrets away. Particularly as Zapfino is a newborn—“

“How old?”

“Only five… five days. Ahgh! Do not ask me even that! The last thing Sans and I need is people coming over, when neither of us can handle—“ No, no, abort. “I am just saying. Sans would appreciate if you did not tell anyone. About the baby. Or anything. At all.”

She crossed her arms smugly. “That’s a no-can-do. I mean, you know how rare skeletons are as-is, right? A brand new baby bones. That’s gonna be some serious intel there, and it would be an irresponsible lapse in my duties to—“

He lunged for the first weapon he could grab (a ladle?) and turned it on her. “I forbid you!”

“You forbid me?” Undyne cackled. “Alright, buddy, put the weapon down. Nice and slow there. Didn’t expect you to draw a spoon on me!” Her lips were curled up in the most approving smile, so he didn’t anticipate a counter-attack. Disarming gave him the opportunity to properly seat himself in the chair. “Listen, if it’s not your secret to tell, then I’m not gonna tell anyone. I was just messing with you, you know that, right? But if there is something you need to tell me, you know I’m here for you, right?”

“As my captain?”

Her smile twitched. “Uh. Sure. As your captain. As your friend, you nerd! I mean, God, how thick do you hafta— But seriously now, you guys can’t just hide a baby forever. For starters, babies grow up. And— and another thing, you know everyone’s gonna want to meet the little booger!”

“Well—“

“It is a civic responsibility. The public has the right to see cute babies. It’s practically a law. You know Dogaressa was posting photos right out of the delivery room! I mean, okay, a newborn might need some space, but you gotta go public about this at some point.”

“You mean Sans should—“

“Yeah, yeah, same difference.” She waved him off. “The whole family.” After a moment’s respite, just as he was coming down from the panic, the very insinuation that she was lumping all of them together, a family by another term (not wrong, but not right, either), she rounded on him again, a theatrical clap that had his chair tilting back as far as the table behind it would allow. “I got it!”

Oh no.

Undyne wound a looping pace around the kitchen. “Look at me, solving all your problems right here! Grillby’s Hallowe’en party’s on Saturday. It’ll be just a little thing. You can bring Sans, Sans can bring the baby, kiddo is introduced to society, bam, everyone’s happy. It’ll be really cool.”

“No.”

She waved her arms about in the air. “C’mon! You never come to any of these things! You don’t know how fun it is.”

“I’m not interested.” With his precarious position in the chair, he could just rest his head against the table-top. Scorch marks patterned the ceiling. He distracted himself trying to find images in the ambiguity of the soot.

“Give it a chance, Papyrus.” Now she was friendly, smooth, conciliatory, wheedling him for all it was worth.

“You know I don’t l—“

“As your commanding officer, I order you to come to the party with the baby. In costume. Bring a snack.”

He groaned. “Sans will—“

“Texting him right now. You’re not getting out of this. Already made up my mind.” Her claws tapped the glass intermittently as she composed the message. It would either be mysterious and foreboding, or filled with emojis, either way giving only the barest minimum of information. He’d received messages from her before, single word ‘Tuesday.’ or messages like ‘Watch out.’ that did not give him location, time, or subject matter to worry about. “Aaand sent. Now neither of you have any excuses.”

“Zapfino is an excuse.”

“They’re the whole reason!” She poked him on the forehead triumphantly. “Trust me, it’s gonna be really good. As a person who knows stuff—” Undyne was altogether too interested in babies, he thought vaguely. Maybe it was just the novelty of Sans, the novelty of watching him try to act paternal, or the scandal of a hidden lover. Those two were the only reasons he could think of at the moment. He was only the means to the end, and while he knew that it was petulant and counterproductive to begrudge the baby anything, terribly petty, he still indulged himself in a nanosecond of jealousy for all the attention Zapfino would be sure to get.

He gave a non-committal groan, the thought of having to socialize and maintain a dizzying array of lies and half-truths about as far away from ‘really good’ as it could get.

“No, c’mon, it’s gonna be awesome! Mandatory costumes! You’re great at that!!!”

He did remember a few great costumes from the years prior. Themed costumes, mostly. The pair of them dressed up so that one only made sense with the other. It was the kind of thing that a parent would find adorable and scrapbook together, but that Sans, in his youth, with his particular sense of humor, would carry out without a cheesy parent or scrapbook in sight. They hadn’t done anything like that in a long time. Probably ten years. Sans had been the driving force in planning their costumes, and after he’d lost steam, his own social anxiety had reared its ugly head. Now, they’d have to figure out a costume for a baby too.

“I don’t actually… that is, the bartender and I are not well-acquainted, so I do not believe I would be welcome—“

“If I remember right, I think he’s super tight with your brother, so you’ll be okay as a plus-one or plus-two! Ha haaa! All the drinks are half-off after nine pm, it’s great!” With one triumphant index finger almost up his nose-cavity, she finished him off: “Show up or I’ll kick your ass your next shift!”

How could he argue with that? She could break his spine into kibble if she wanted to. “We’ll be there if we get costumes together.” He watched the spaghetti sauce bubble over dangerously, hissing and spitting its displeasures. If he bowed out now, it would only register with her as something abnormal with him. Maybe not even baby-related. Maybe she’d watch him more closely, or maybe she’d just stop wanting to be his friend. He couldn’t afford that.

The worries simmered through their spaghetti training, eating their way through him much like their creation wrought havoc on Undyne’s poor saucepan. Aside from the sentry guards, would he know anyone else there? Would he be stuck showing off a baby to total strangers? People who might give a look between Sans and him and pluck the lie right from their faces? If Undyne noticed he was less vocal than usual, she didn’t comment on it, and all too quickly, they were done.

The long walk home felt almost insurmountable this time. He considered and rejected thought of the ferryman. It’d probably get out to everyone that he, the Great Papyrus, was being _lazy_ for once. Then Undyne would hear, and she’d think he wasn’t good enough. Twice, he had to find a bench to sit until the dizzy spells faded, but that wasn’t quite as horrific a prospect. The echo flowers wouldn’t tell on him for sitting on a bench, would they? And if they did, that was something normal people did. (No one warned him it would feel this bad.) By the time he saw the strings of Christmas lights in the distance like their own finish line, he was so exhausted he could barely walk straight.

~

Sans was rocking the baby against his chest as Papyrus came home, shoes kicked off in the entryway, coat draped over the over-burdened stand, all in complete, sullen silence. Kid had just calmed down after a violent explosion of tears and sobs that had him pleading for a moment of relief.

“We have to talk,” Papyrus intoned solemnly.

His heart sank.

“She knows.”

“wh—“

“Undyne knows about Zapfino.”

Shit.

“how does she know?”

“I told her.”

Shit.

His mouth drew back at the edges, more a strained grimace than a grin. “you told the captain about zapfino? how, uh… how did that come up in conversation exactly?” Didn’t they practically mutually agree to keep silent on this? He couldn’t hold Papyrus to anything. He didn’t deserve to hold Papyrus to anything. That golden silence was the only think keeping him from his punishment, but still—

“She has _ways_ , Sans! Terrible ways of wrangling the truth out of someone. I tried to resist…” Papyrus swooned dramatically on the couch, then snapped back up. “And that’s not even the worst of it!”

Of course not.

“You received the text message, didn’t you?”

Uh? He hadn’t even bothered to check his phone in the last little bit. Did it have enough battery to check at all?

“It was probably something inscrutable,” his brother admitted, saving him the awkwardness of the confession. “But she invited us to the Hallowe’en party at that bar.”

The huff that forced out between his teeth was more a release of pent-up air than a laugh. “you got me all worried for that?” Calling him a ‘regular attendee’ at this point would be the understatement of the year.

“She ordered us to bring Zapfino and show them off to the town! That’s the only reason she wants us there.” Papyrus gesticulated so strongly his wrists crackled. “There will be all that attention and staying out past bedtimes—“

He would have made a comment about bedtimes were it not for the startling awareness that any snatch of sleep must be hard-won by adhering to a schedule and eking it out between an infant’s screams. Sure, the kid was snoozing peacefully for now, but who knew how long that would last? “i’m sure they’ll understand if we cut it short for the kiddo.”

“Err— Right!” His brother recovered smoothly and soldiered on. “But then, worst of all, we have to—“

“figure out costumes?”

“GOD!” Papyrus flopped down again with his arm draped over his eyes. “What if we just tell them we died of the plague?” His expression was just this side of manic.

“they’d want to know who was phone.” The reference went unacknowledged. Just as well. If his brother frequented the most fecal of shitpost sites, he’d lose some of his best material.

His brother unburdened himself of a long sigh. “The baby also must be costumed, I am assuming—“

Sans nodded. “and it’s probably gotta be vomit-friendly, washable, easy in-and-out for changes. adorable. gotta be adorable…”

“Yes. Well! We have five days!” He briefly raised his arm from his face to shake his fist at the ceiling. “I didn’t even want to do this in the first place!” No kidding. “And a bar is no place to bring a baby! And—“

“let’s just start with the costumes first?” He bridged his hands and cracked all his knuckles in a satisfying ripple, ignoring the muttered complaints. “hey, now that you’re tagging along, we can do themed costumes again.” How long had that been? When had it started embarrassing Papyrus, turned him into some surly, screeching kid, telling him he’d rather stay home than put on a giant mustard costume? “i got some great ones now that you aren’t—“ A child? “squeamish. like for example, we could go as a vampire and a werewolf, and the carrycot could be set up like a coffin—“

“What? That’s a horrible idea!”

“—and you could open the coffin up and there’d be the baby skeleton right there so we wouldn’t even have to—“

Papyrus stared at him with flat, unfeeling eyes. “Not only is that morbid, it is _incredibly racist_. Pick something else!”

He adjusted the baby’s position to ease up an arm cramp. Complaining about a costume selection was at least still engaging in the process. There might be hope yet. “alright, there’s a lot more where that’s coming. how about this: ten minutes of face paint and some cardboard bones on a body-suit, and we’re walking sugar skulls.” Papyrus would definitely veto that one—

“So you’re saying we make _naked skeleton_ costumes?? You’d never get that one through the door, Sans. Besides, the face paint would be gone as soon as the baby burped up. You’re lucky I’m here to vet these for you. That one was just awful!”

Oh yeah, and now he was invested. Hook, line, and sinker, Paps. “we could put pumpkins on our heads—“

“There’s a pumpkin-person who lives to the south! He’ll probably be there for the party!”

“yeah, come to think of it, that does sound familiar—“ And now for the ‘finishing move’. “alright, i guess we could go together as a princess, a dragon, and a knight. like out of the fairy tales? if you wanted to be the knight… i mean, i could whip up a princess costume for you if y—“

“Obviously I will be the knight! You can make a little princess costume for Zapfino. If you make a smock, you can undo it from the back very easily.” It took his brother a moment to realise what he’d just agreed to. “Of course, if you can’t complete my costume in-time, I— I don’t need to go— a dragon and a princess make just as much sense together without the knight as— And of course, my requests will be precise and exacting!”

“i think i can handle it if you can.” A creative project would be a nice diversion for once. He’d just serviced the sewing machine’s motor a month ago, but had nothing to mend. Funny how life worked like that, sometimes. “give me a day or two to get the material together. i’ll make sure you’re the noblest knight in the land.”

Papyrus looked like he could be knocked over by a faint breeze. Taking on the costumes wouldn’t be too difficult — it was practically engineering in fabric form — but it probably meant a lot more for a guy who seemed to manufacture his own stresses on the fly. It didn’t take much encouragement for him to lurch his way up the stairs and flop onto that racecar bed for the sleep he obviously needed. And if Sans didn’t bother asking him about the roots of the stress in the first place? It was an uncertain new world they lived in, and he wasn’t sure they could haul it all out in conversation without his own injustices hanging over them on thin threading. As long as Papyrus didn’t want to talk about it, that was fine by him. He’d just try to make it up to him.

The baby lay across his lap, roughly the size of a loaf of bread, and just about as oblivious. Everyone would want to see them, talk about them, and ask him about who the other monster in his life might be. It was a small town. People would talk. It wasn’t as if they could hide it forever, no, but he thought he might have been able to make the introductions on his terms. Just another instance of having to roll with life’s punches. At least he was good at that.

~

The bar felt like a furnace compared to the cold wind whipping against the panes of glass, rattling the door. If he had skin, it would certainly be strained about his eye-sockets and cheekbones with the dry heat. Everything natural felt subsumed by the sheer personality of the bar. A step away from the doorway, and you couldn’t hear the wind or the slush anymore, nor the rattle. Soft chatter was the first noise. Beyond that, a deep throb of bass. He couldn’t tell if it was live music or a recording from the jukebox. The music filled the empty space.

Strings of purple lights rimmed the room, contrasting the red-orange of all the fire that typically defined the limited space. The presence of more light only deepened and elongated the shadows. The familiar became uncanny. Everyone he knew was wearing a mask.

“No, dude, it’s not a bird. It’s a plague doctor costume. You know, plague doctor?” There, one figure rendered completely incomprehensible by their costume. Their dark cape flapped about with the intensity of their motions. A leather mask with a long beak and wide, empty eyes defied his scrutiny. They spoke to the pumpkin person, whose costume was only distinguished from their typical strange garb by the addition of a tricorn hat desperately perched atop their head. “C’mon, you can’t have been exiled before— geez, you guys know who Sp*der-Man is but not what plague doctors are? All my good references are totally wasted on you!”

Not far away, a short white-furred creature wrapped tightly in tea-stained shredded cotton strips — he could smell it — and gold jewelry, an elaborate blue headdress. This fake mummy complained bitterly to their companion, who appeared to be a scientist in lab coat and goggles: they hadn’t worked on their costume at all. They could be anything they wanted. Why didn’t they respect the one holiday that would let them run wild with the outfits? They seemed to be a couple, a couple who hadn’t bothered to coordinate their attire in the slightest, and the ‘scientist’ had clearly tuned out of the conversation ten minutes ago.

By the bar-top, a long, lean demon tapped clawed fingers against a drink that glowed at the bottom and bubbled at the top. He could pick out the ‘ka-tink ka-tink’ as each claw-tip hit the glass. What a horrible habit. Did everyone do it? Did they have to make so much noise for no reason? It felt like ice picks through the eye sockets. The costume was equally ghoulish, streaks of black made sleeker by how thin his person was. A white powdered face and a scalloped cape suggested something more vampiric. If he tried to remember, he felt he could at least pin a name to this face, but a sly smile from those sharp-tipped lips and he wanted nothing more than to flee those knowing eyes before that person could peel back all his ribs and divine his secrets from his unguarded soul.

The sentry’s table had no space for him. Canids encircled it eagerly for the opportunity to speak with his superior officer, who likely had forgotten about him and the baby entirely. This season was an endless stream of one party after another, and hyper-vigilance bowed out for another kind of aggressiveness, one which he correlated to the streams of pop, smoothies, brews, and meads sent their way. He could observe, distantly, the huddle, hear low wooden thumps as his captain defended some kind of made-up arm-wrestling title. He had admired that. He had wanted to take a try too, test his mettle against proven steel. It wasn’t fear that had dissuaded him.

He made his way to a chair and collapsed into it, already feeling drained from the social interaction around him. Guests paid him little notice. He was an island in the midst of it all. No, not in the midst. In the corner. Self-ostracized. It would not be appropriate to become engrossed in phone-games to the exclusion of the party around him, but these kinds of socials demanded a vigilance of their own, an awareness or ‘wariness’ that would not stop until he was alone again. He’d never been comfortable with crowds, although he supposed it would be different if they were devoted fans, if he was known for himself rather than rumors and gossip passed along by people who thought they knew his brother.

And there that selfsame brother was, the veritable center of attention, swimming in an ugly green onesie that could pass for pajamas, and laughing along to something that probably wasn’t even a funny joke. All those strangers, all those townspeople he probably wouldn’t recognise even out of their costumes, peering in at all those flounces of purple cloth and the baby under them. They were adorable together. When Sans didn’t have to look at him, he actually smiled, showing off this thing he was responsible for.

Sans fit in here, with these strangers, with his cute costumes, and his natural social graces, his ability to make conversation with anybody, a joke always notched and ready to fly at a moment’s notice, and now flanked by a well-behaved baby as the ultimate coup. They were perfect. He didn’t belong at all. He didn’t even belong at their side, really. Not feeling so anxious about the starch-white uniform top that he couldn’t eat anything, not fumbling for words, not avoiding eye-contact and avoiding too much proximity to Zapfino, not knocking down this whole house of cards they’d built. He could tell when he was asked about. Sans’s head would swivel his way, and then he’d point straight at him, and he’d have to sit up straight and affix an expression that said that he was perfectly fine, but not to come over and talk to him. Not that anyone would.

Occasionally, he’d hear snippets from the swanning admirers. “They look just like their father!” That was true. The cherubic baby face was all soft shapes, just like Sans. And they were small, like Sans was small. Smaller than he expected babies could be. The baby almost resembled a doll at times, especially given how sedate they were in this loud and unfamiliar setting. “How long have you had Zapfino?” Sans would give the rough timeline, maybe correct the pronunciation for this strange font-name he’d now have to force everyone to learn. Occasionally, he’d fudge the dates a bit. Wouldn’t be good for anyone to try to trace it back to another townsperson. Discretion was the better part of valor and all of that. A few people questioning about the other parent, and Sans would play coy about that question above all else, because wouldn’t that ruin them.

Sans was a natural with the baby. All the makings of fatherhood material now made manifest and on display. He knew just how to cradle the head and neck, how warm the formula had to be, how to keep them entertained, then let them doze, all while flocked by the curious lookie-loos. Undyne was right about one thing: these people loved babies. The most common question, “Can I hold them,” like the baby was some cool new party favour to be passed around. Sans could deflect those requests like a public relations guru. No one else deserved to hold Zapfino anyway, and especially not total strangers. Well. They probably weren’t total strangers to Sans, but he got to give input into who could hold the baby, right?

He tracked the motions of the bartender wending his way across the room. It seemed the man had someone else to actually take away emptied bottles and refill beverages, so the fire monster had an opportunity to mingle tonight. Sure enough, in short order, Grillby made his way over to Sans. It was the most animated he’d seen his brother all evening. Almost flirtatious. Jealousy flared through his chest again, hating the very idea of it, but the two were friends. It would do no good to lie to himself and say he would accept them pairing were it not for Zapfino; the thought left him cold. Yet this horrible, greasy-food-making fireball made Sans happy for some stupid reason, and he’d probably be Sans’s best chance at a relationship outside of his cratered prospects. He could accept that, and still irrationally loathe him on sight.

If he hadn’t hated Grillby before, he would have gained a reason to in the moment Sans passed him the baby. Another man self-assured with handling infants, even one so small he could crush its skull in his fist, and yet so gentle. He should have been relieved that no one risked the baby’s life. He should have been grateful that Grillby was apparently worthy of the trust placed in him. But pounding through his head so hard the whole room wavered, all he could feel was the injustice of this intimacy the two shared in the crowd. Grillby, holding Sans’s child in his arms. Grillby, making him laugh in return with probably another horrible dad joke. The two of them could cut him free and make a wholesome, picture-perfect family, and no one would hurt, and there would be no sins feared or acknowledged, and everyone would be happy, everyone except him. His mouth went dry. He wanted to stand up and force himself between them until Grillby gave the baby back and went away. Forever, preferably.

Before he could muster the energy to struggle back up onto his feet, Sans made the move for him. With a smile frozen in a rictus pose more like pain, he retrieved Zapfino from Grillby’s arms, settled them back into their carrycot, and made a stiff march away in the direction of the powder room. His fiery beau stood there perplexed for a moment, made unnerving eye-contact with him the next, then sought out the demon at the bar-top. Whatever had been said, it struck the wrong note with his brother. He could guess a few things that would do it. The cold clutch around his heart began to loosen, watching Grillby wrap an arm around the demon and pass along words meant for his alone. As long as the baby existed, Sans would never let anyone else close. There was too much to risk.

~

_“You must be so proud.”_

That’s all it took. He had— he had _deceived_ himself into thinking this would be a nice night out showing off the baby. A return to the Hallowe’en parties of old when he had Papyrus at his side to brag about and use as an excuse to dip out on conversations. And then that had burst the moment Grillby said—

_“You must be so proud.”_

Holding the baby like that, so it was clear that there was nothing else he could possibly be talking about. Like it was something to be proud of. Like there was anything about this that he could be proud of. And there was no way he could know, but it still rattled his bones the way those blank eyes stared him down, like they could look into his soul and piece it all together.

For a moment, Sans panicked. All he could think about was Zapfino in some other monster’s hands right before they took the baby away forever. Maybe Papyrus was right, and they should have avoided this until they had a better coached lie at the ready. His grin sat frozen on his face until he could cobble together something about having to check on the baby’s diaper, just to get them back in his hands and the pair of them as far away from everyone else as possible. He could tell Grillby didn’t believe him, but he let them go anyway.

In the bathroom, the crowd outside sounded like it belonged to another world entirely. Sans rushed to the toilet and heaved and heaved, but he couldn’t purge his guilt. The sound throbbed out under the door while he settled on the tiles, regarding the physical evidence of his sins. It wasn’t the baby’s fault. Just looking across the planes of their face and the tiny biscuit-sized hands, it was perfect and beautiful and new. Anyone who saw them couldn’t help but fall in love. To just about anyone else, a baby in their prison was proof that hope could still flourish even in darkest despair. So it wasn’t fair that he had to look at Zapfino and see only a new form of suffering. How could he be proud? He knew what he did. He thought perhaps he could content himself with the assurance that at least Papyrus wanted the baby, but maybe it was only a little more complex than that. Maybe he just wanted Sans to see this kid every day for the rest of his life and have that memory be the first thing that came to mind. The worst night of his life. Maybe he just wanted the big brother that betrayed him to burn in hell. If it was him, that’s what he would want.

God, it wasn’t fair.

He couldn’t stay barricaded in the bathroom for the rest of the evening, but he couldn’t face the crowds much longer either. Zapfino had woken up again, staring at him fixedly without a single noise, and that too felt like the gates of judgment opened before him. He made sure they were tucked back in before resurfacing to the cacophonous throngs.

Just like old times, Sans found Papyrus seated in the corner, in as much dark as he could acquire, avoiding everything and everyone. His brother had always been that quiet kid, the one who looked sullen and unapproachable only because he wasn’t comfortable with talking to all these strangers Sans could identify on sight. Maybe it hadn’t been kind to expect him to mingle with a totally different age group and totally different interests, but he had been trying to get him out of his comfort zone at the time. Make some friends. He should have seen how miserable he looked.

“hey, we’re getting out of here.” Relief was instant in his brother’s eyes. He marked exactly how Papyrus struggled his way out of the chair into something resembling ‘upright’. Something else to be worried about. “if anyone wants to know, it’s zappy’s bedtime.” Papyrus didn’t even give him a ‘told you so’. He watched him skirt Undyne’s table and offer the most perfunctory of goodbyes. He noted the full-body slump from shoulders and back as soon as the door had closed behind them. He endured the tired silence as they trudged back home, the carrycot rocking the baby to sleep in the three-pace distance between them. As soon as the bundle was set on the floor and their slushy outerwear divested to their proper places, he observed the way Papyrus pressed against the wall to keep himself vertical, like the weight of the world was bearing down on him all at once. His fault. Then, in a resignation Sans hadn’t believed him capable of, he watched Papyrus lurch to the kitchen counter, break the seal on one of those almost-identical medicine bottles, and take two chalky vitamin tablets before venturing upstairs into the dark.

They were never going to talk about this.

**Author's Note:**

> It has been a long time! I had a draft sitting in my files since August of 2016 and didn't have the strength to finalize it. It is now acceptably complete.


End file.
